


sucker punch.

by mihkrokosmos



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Feelings Realisation, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, MC is named, as they should - Freeform, crossposted from tumblr, my visual novel fics have a trend and that is, they took kiss kiss fall in love literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihkrokosmos/pseuds/mihkrokosmos
Summary: “I think—”“Oh, wow, okay! This is new!”“You’re so mean to me. How could you do this? How could you treat the light of your life, the great Mammon, the holder of your heart with such blatant disrespect.”
Relationships: Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 71





	sucker punch.

**Author's Note:**

> this is just fun and self-indulgent because who are u to stop me??? exactly . also sigrid’s sucker punch is ABSOLUTELY the vibe for this and everything ever amen

“I think—”

“Oh, wow, okay! This is new!”

“You’re so mean to me. How could you do this? How could you treat the light of your life, the great Mammon, the holder of your heart with  _ such blatant disrespect _ .”

“Down, boy.”

“ _ Ambrose _ !”

Mammon threw his body across the boy sprawled over the bed, limbs tangling and catching on stray edges. The locks of white hair blocking his sight couldn’t hide the wide, unrestrained grin on Ambrose’s face. It’s the type of unadulterated joy that Mammon thinks he’d start a war for. Sadly, Ambrose is laughing at his expense, so revenge is needed. Obviously. Mammon’s lips curl into a frustrated pout. Childish? Yeah. But! Ambrose isn’t listening to him, which is a cardinal sin.  _ He _ should know! He’s also one! 

“Okay, okay,” Ambrose hums, ducking his head to nuzzle the juncture where Mammon’s neck meets his shoulder, “what’s up with my least favourite demon?”

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean? How am I your least favourite?” Mammon retorts. His tone isn’t quite harsh enough to be effective in any way, though, and he doesn’t so much as shift Ambrose. Not because he’s enjoying this, or whatever. Fuck off. Mammon doesn’t  _ do  _ attachment; he’s a demon, why should he care about a human? It doesn’t matter if the human has a myriad of piercings and golden skin and soft lips that quirk up into a cheeky smirk as easily as they pull into a mocking snarl. Yeah. 

“Hey, I thought you wanted to tell me something. You’re so easily distracted.”

“That’s your fault! What I was gonna say was that… shit, what was I gonna say? Stop makin’ me lose focus!”

Ambrose hums, pressing a light kiss (was it a real kiss? Did he mean it like a kiss? Huh?) to Mammon’s forehead. The action wasn’t totally foreign — the two of them were tactile beings, this was only exacerbated when they were around each other — but Mammon still blushes like an idiot. 

“Take your time, don’t worry. This irrelevant human apologises sincerely for derailing such an important demon, hm?”

“Apologises my ass.”

“Dude, why the fuck is your ass saying sorry?”

Mammon snorted inelegantly into his sleeve, prompting Ambrose to start sniggering again. It was no wonder why they had managed to form a— to maintain a close(?) friendship, when Ambrose tolerated the others at the best of times. He could barely be in Lucifer’s presence for longer than five seconds before  _ someone  _ was shouting. As far as Mammon knew, the only other demon Ambrose was relatively close to was Satan. Maybe it was a temper thing, like being around other angry people recharged his battery. Or whatever. 

“Nooooo, you sidetracked me again. What was I gonna tell you? It was damn important, too… Oh, wait, I got it.”

“The suspense is killing me,” Ambrose drawls, just to be a little shit. 

“I think Asmodeus is visiting Solomon in the human world!” 

Mammon sits up straight as he proclaims his findings, eyes wide as he straddles Ambrose. The reaction from the human is rather lacklustre, consisting of a raised eyebrow and exasperated half-smile. Mammon is, to be honest, a little offended. This is  _ news _ ! Well, maybe not Asmodeus and Solomon fucking around (literally), but it was supposed to end when Solomon got sent back. Why wasn’t Ambrose freaking out? It was a demon and a human, what more drama could he want? Honestly, he could be so hard to please. 

Ambrose tilts his head, still wearing that strange expression that Mammon would call ‘fond’ if he understood what that was. Wiry arms tug him back down so he’s back to lying on top of Ambrose, slender fingers combing through white hair. Ambrose’s own black hair is tied back into a messy ponytail, fanning out across the pillow.

“Baby,” Ambrose coos, “why are you acting like that’s such a huge deal?”

“It is!” Mammon splutters, only slightly soothed by the rhythmic petting, “It’s a  _ human _ and a  _ demon _ , not that I’d expect an idiot like you to understand, and Lord Diavolo made it clear that communication was banned!”

He feels more than sees Ambrose nodding slowly. Irritatingly, it’s not a nod of understanding. If anything, he’s just trying to humour Mammon. Mammon whacks him on the chest for it (and then pats the same spot, just in case).

“How is that different from what we’re doing?” Ambrose inquires rather amicably, though there’s amusement bleeding into his voice as he goes on, “have you forgotten that I’m a human? Huh, the world must be ending.”

“Oi! Don’t make fun of me! This is— they— we’re different, okay? Okay!” 

(Faintly, he wonders how a brat like one Ambrose Riordan ever managed to sneak his way into Mammon’s heart). 

“We’re different?” Ambrose teases. He’s nose-to-nose with Mammon, dark eyes glinting with mischief. Mammon is considered a troublemaker because he doesn’t think things through; Ambrose is considered a troublemaker because chaos runs in his veins. He’s a little magnetic and Mammon’s a little enchanted.

“Of course we are,” he huffs, sitting back up and shoving Ambrose’s shoulder when he moves to follow. It doesn’t deter him at all, and Mammon is hardly going to protest if he ends up with Ambrose’s hands on his waist. His fingers dance across the sliver of tanned skin where Mammon’s uniform shirt has rucked up, crumpled from the dramatic movements of earlier. Also crumpled because he can’t iron. Little technicalities. Mammon almost forgets to continue, but he does. “We’re not just fucking! Asmo could find anyone in the Devildom, right? He just wants Solomon to be difficult.”

Ambrose sighs so deeply that Mammon can feel it in his own chest. Ah… not a good sign. He backtracks through what he’s said so far, trying to piece together what part of it could have frustrated Ambrose. The result of what he comes up with is the same as his bank balance at the moment: nothing! Woo. That’s not ideal. 

“Pretty sure this is the first time you’ve acknowledged that we are not, in fact, just fucking,” Ambrose finally remarks, head tilted back in thought. All Mammon can focus on is the expanse of Ambrose’s neck, brown skin gleaming under the candlelight. He… sort of wants to bite it. 

“W-well, yeah, but don’t think that means anything! You’re just a human! I don’t  _ actually  _ care, y’know?”

“You’re a dumbass, Mammon.”

Mammon gapes at Ambrose, eyes only widening further when the other boy leans in and then it’s a blur of strawberry chapstick and playful teeth and soft,  _ soft  _ lips that he knows so well by now. Ambrose is smirking into the kiss, Mammon can tell, but he can’t help the broken-off whine that escapes when Ambrose  _ almost  _ pulls away. The innocent brush steadily devolves into a careless, messy slide as Ambrose’s tongue swipes across Mammon’s mouth and they fall into a rhythm of gasping breaths and nonsensical murmurs. 

“Why… am I a dumbass?” Mammon asks once they break apart, a flush settling high on Ambrose’s cheeks (one he knows is mirrored on his own face).

“I think you’re slightly in love with me,” Ambrose grins, using the same one he would use to comment on the weather. Mammon can only stare at him in bemusement, brain completely fried at the mere mention of such a concept. His mouth opens, closes, opens, closes, until his jaw aches and he’s left with nothing but the unnerving feeling that Ambrose is right.

Which is terrible, because now he’s going to be insufferable about it and that’s Mammon’s job. 

“Maybe,” Mammon acquiesces, voice muffled from where his mouth is pressed up against the skin of Ambrose’s bare shoulder, “don’t you dare use that against me, though! I’ll fight you!”

Ambrose gazes down at the huffy demon, slouched and sulking into his shoulder. Mammon can’t see how his face softens, plump lips curving into a more tender, delicate smile. It’s not quite precious enough to sell, but it’s priceless nevertheless. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is citylihgts twitter is m1nyards uhh stay hydrated! acab! blm!


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